


Drabble Collection (The NSFW Version)

by SmilesMcGee



Category: Flight Rising
Genre: M/M, Other, Somnophilia, dubcon, this is goingt o end up mixed w both gijinka AND dragon as things go on just fyi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-09 07:02:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13476201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmilesMcGee/pseuds/SmilesMcGee
Summary: This is where I'm going to be continuously posting the short works i do in response to prompts and things for my nsfw blog!





	1. Matteo (Solo)

Matteo tossed over in his bed again. It was too early to sleep, really, but he wasn’t in much of a mood to do anything else. He was going through another growth spurt according to Bloodlines, which apparently was supposed to account for both the restlessness and the dull ache in his spine.  
  
He flopped over again and pulled his knees closer to his chest in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure and maybe stop the ache a bit. There wasn’t _much_ relief but it was some. Shoving his arms between his thighs he attempted to pull his knees even higher, making himself a ball on his bed.  
  
Huffing with annoyance he squeezed his legs around his arms. He pressed his arms closer to his body, putting slight pressure on his groin, an unconscious act. Still annoyed with the situation, he squeezed his legs and arms again out of frustration. It was a few minutes later before he snapped out of his irritated haze enough to notice he was slowly humping his own arms.  
  
 _Immediately_ flushing blue and yellow with embarrassment he started to pull his hands out from where they were tucked but forgot to unclench his legs and only succeeded in grinding them down even harder on the way out. Matteo’s breath stopped in his throat.  
  
 _Leave it alone, just uncurl and it will go away… You just have to leave it alone and wait…_  
  
Matteo bit his lip, hands hovering at the top of his thighs, fingers still partly between them, having not been pulled all the way out. He didn’t… _want_ to touch himself. That was… well, no matter what Blood said, it was still fairly shameful in his mind. Still… He couldn’t seem to convince himself to uncurl and pull away.  
  
His fingers pressed slightly down into the crease, his own body betraying him and his obvious desire of outcome for the situation. Listening for any steps or voices nearby, he lifted his top leg just enough for his hand to fully slip in, resting it against the front of his shorts gingerly. Matteo’s breath hitched briefly as he pressed against the increasing warmth in his groin.  
  
Pausing again to listen, even though he knew Pit wouldn’t be back until late that night, he quickly pushed his fingertips past the short’s waistband and pulled himself out and into his hand. The movement was so quick it was almost as though he was attempting to ignore what he was doing, rather than savoring it.  
  
He lifted his leg slightly to give himself better access and pressed his pillow and face together with his other hand. His brows knit tightly as he gave himself a squeeze in his hand. He always forgot how… _lovely_ it felt. Letting out the shaky breath he’d been holding onto, he squeezed one more time before giving a small, soft stroke of his hand upward.  
  
He continued stroking slowly to avoid making any sounds, his breathing growing shallow and his leg lifting even more to allow himself better access to his shameful task. Completely silent, he went slower still, only this time he was starting as low down as he could and pulling gently to the top where he would squeeze a little extra before returning the way he had come.  
  
The cool smoothness of his palm felt almost icy in contrast to the abnormal warmth of his dick, but it really only made him flush more. His skin under his clothes was glistening and shiny with shades of purple, yellow, blue, and more as he began to melt into his bed. Swallowing, he began panting quietly into his pillow, fingers picking up speed and gripping more desperately, warmth radiating from his groin through his belly and arms.  
  
He continued stroking himself quickly, his other hand coming out from its prison under the pillow and pushing his shirt up, roaming all over his stomach and chest, fingers tugging at the flesh some whenever they found purchase. He felt wrong doing it to himself, since it seemed shameful to provide his body something he best knew as something that was meant to come from another person, but… that wasn’t _nearly_ as bad as the guilt he had for imagining the roaming hand as someone other than his. What would Lohit think if he knew what Matteo was doing… He shivered, maybe he… maybe he _wanted_ him to know…  
  
He continued fucking his own hand as much as he could without causing the bed to move, his tail sticking out from under the blankets and flicking around behind him with pleasure. Matteo’s free hand continued to roam, squeezing his chest and then reaching down to squeeze his thighs tightly, nails digging in as he curled back in on himself, still sideways and fetal in his bed. Pressing up into his hand hard he gave a sudden gasp and bit down to stifle the sound, pale blue cum splashing onto his covers, hand, and belly without a sound.  
  
Shifting off his side and into the bed more, he gave a few weak thrusts against the mattress, lost in the sensation of pressure against tingling nerve endings. After a minute or two he gave a sigh, lips tight, chastising himself internally for giving in weakly again to his own wants.  
  
After wiping up the slight mess, he tossed the rag into the corner and pulled the waistband of his shorts back up. At least now he was tired enough to sleep some, although the irritation was back full force. He flopped his head back down onto his pillow, arm dangling over the side of the bed. This growth spurt had better be damn well worth it.


	2. Lezare/Faulk (somno)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faulk is asleep and Lezare isn't the happiest about this, but things perk up when it turns out Faulk's in the midst of some pretty raunchy dreaming.

Lezare looked down at the small beetle crawling on their hand, giving if a final once over before popping it into their mouth. It wasn’t especially dark out; the fire was crackling and Bloodlines was starting up another story as Pit and Matteo helped her take down the laundry. Faulk had gotten home a while ago from his most recent jaunt into the surrounding area, and had almost immediately retreated to the tent to rest. 

Lezare crunched thoughtfully, trying to remember what Faulk had said about time and sleeping for what must have been the millionth time. They weren’t too good at the concept… Time being, well.. _fake_ and all. A strange construction of the planet and after so _much_  of the thing, well, still rather hard to grasp. 

Standing up and dusting off their skirt, Lel started off towards the tent with a skip. Bursting in rather enthusiastically they took a single hop and _launched_ onto the bed, landing next to Faulk. Propping their head up on a hand, Lezare reached over his shoulder to poke his face. “Kitten!” 

There was a beat, and Lezare’s brow knit, giving the fake another poke when there was no response to the first one. “Peanut?” _Poke._ ”Smidge?” _Poke._ ”Pumpernickel??” _Poke poke._

The only feedback was a tiny stir and the sound of light snoring. Lezare rested their chin on his shoulder, looking down at Faulk’s sleeping face with a slight pout. 

_He must be… really tired to keep sleeping through that._

With a frustrated groan they sat up and flopped back down directly on top of him, rolling the sleeping giant onto his back with a gentle ‘phwump’. Lezare shimmied around a bit, wiggling their whole body until they were comfortably chest to chest with Faulk, resting their elbows on his chest and staring down at him, chin in hands. Faulk’s eyelids fluttered, a few strands of his soft dark hair laying across his face, some held in place by the short hairs along his jaw, cheeks tinged with pink, and lips parted mere millimeters. 

Getting bored, Lezare continued to wiggle around, laying their head on his chest, sitting up, laying back down, picking at his hair, until finally they sat up with a huff, intent on leaving had it not been for the soft feel of a familiar mound against their back. Blinking a bit and then smiling in realization, Lezare pressed back even more. 

“What dreams are _you_ having today, poppy?”  


Lezare put a hand on either side of Faulk and lifted their hips a few inches, sliding back to sit directly on top of what _would_ have been a problem for later that evening, when Faulk woke up. Lel pressed down, slowly and carefully moving side to side, face even with Faulk’s to watch for any signs of wakefulness. 

Instead, all they got was a tiny flicker of eyebrows coming together and a huff of air so soft that anyone else would have missed it. Smiling wider at the good news, Lezare continued for to grind side to side slowly, patience being both a virtue _and_ a given once you’ve lived past a certain age. 

Recognizing from feel alone that Faulk was fully hard, Lezare sat up again, running their hands slowly down Faulk’s bare chest, then massaging at his shoulders and firmly gripping the lanky muscle in his arms. 

Faulk ‘s head shifted in his sleep, cheeks still changing from pink tinged to the full dusky rose of arousal. Planting a tiny kiss on his nose, Lezare rolled off and quickly pulled off their skirt along with the make-shift underwear that Bloodlines insisted they wear. Still wearing the tied set of sleeves, Lel looked down at their belly and gave a small poke, an scheming grin forming on their face, belly rounded and taut with a few small, recently formed eggs. 

Turning back to Faulk on the bed, Lezare pulled the single blanket from his hips, revealing the large, already dripping dick underneath. Trying not to vibrate too much with excitement, they crawled back over and placed a soft warm hand around its base. With an eye on Faulk to make sure he was still completely out, Lezare dipped down and took the head in their mouth, applying gently pressure. 

Lel ran a thumb over the ridges softly, focusing on the ones closest to the base where they were most sensitive and marveling as always at the deep dusty color, rich and brown, tinted with the deepest of reds when Faulk was interested. Which, sleeping or no, he seemed to be. 

Lapping gently at the head and humming mostly to themself, Lezare reached down to their own groin and retrieved some of the building slightly sticky slick. Pulling off, they began to carefully coat it over Faulk, smiling at the sleeping form of their mate, whose limbs were beginning to twitch involuntarily.

Rising to their knees, Lezare positioned themself over it, tentacle sliding down and out of its home to wrap gently around Faulk, adding more slick and curling around it with extreme familiarity. Lezare giggled and let their legs spread on the bed enough to be directly on top of him again and they softly began to grind along with the green, vine-like tentacle. (It did, in fact, technically qualify as a vine both in composition  _and_ in visual, but that was beside the point.)

Finally, lifting up just enough, they slid onto it, the girth stretching some even after what was either hundreds or thousands of years. With a moan, Lezare sunk down slowly, taking what was in all likelihood close to a foot in length and feeling the gentle nudge as it settled all the way in. Pressing their hand to their stomach, Lezare paused to take it all in.

Faulk was breathing hard now, still asleep but breath coming in much more frequent and shallow bursts. His eyelids were fluttering with whatever dreams the experience was creating enough that the occasional sliver or blue or brown was visible. His chest rose and fell, still firmly enough in sleeps grasp to have a stable rhythm. 

Lezare leaned forward to brush the strands of hair from his face, pulling their thumb over his lip thoughtfully, and smiling lovingly at the tiny movements of his mouth and brow as he was handled unknowingly. Reaching a hand down to feel their belly one last time, Lel lifted up a few inches and then came back down, groaning at the double fullness of their mate’s cock pushing against a handful of eggs in the fight for space inside them. 

Lifting even more this time, they slid back down with what was obviously a lot of restraint in terms of speed, determined now not to wake Faulk at _all,_ his sleeping form too pretty against the dark bedspread for Lezare want to change. Starting to create a rhythm, Lel pondered the intimate nature of the thing. There was something about it… The strange singular nature of something involving two people, the way they could watch Faulk for the tiniest of responses to stimulation, and the _trust_ between the two of them that allowed it to happen. That would end up allowing the entire thing to finish, with Faulk _entirely_ unaware of what had happened until he woke up and Lezare placed a hand on his chest and happily told him. 

Giggling and leaning forward so their chests were touching, Lezare continued to slide back and forth, breathing harder and wrapping a hand around Faulk’s bicep. Groaning with effort and pure desire, Lel kept the pace up, carefully watching for any change in Faulk and peppering kisses on his chest. 

Their single set of lips drenched with slightly green slime and stretched around the massive, ridged dick, Lezare practically squeaked with need as the tip of their tentacle was razed again and again, the ultra sensitive spot reaching out to meet the intrusion with every thrust backwards. 

It was during this that Lezare felt a slight shift under them, muscles beginning to clench as the still sleeping Faulk reached his limit. Triggering what Lezare had over the centuries developed as a version of orgasm, the two came together, Lel gasping as tiny spots and stars danced in front of them. 

Breathing heavily, they gave a few weak thrusts backwards before stopping entirely, arms curling around the back of Faulk’s shoulders to cling to him. Wiggling a bit, _extremely_ satisfied with themself and still firmly seated, they reached a hand back to feel at the tight seal of Faulk pushed inside them and stretching their entrance. 

Humming happily, Lezare tugged at the blanket, covering the two of them completely and poked again at the still flushed and now slightly shiny face of their mate. Heart(?) still racing, they closed their eyes and nuzzled his chest. Faulk would probably take the eggs away in when he woke up and found Lel still on him, but most likely they’d have sex again a few times first, and no matter what Lezare was rather self-satisfied with the scheme. 

Who knows, maybe this time Faulk would let them keep one.


	3. Myeles/Jan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short halfsie written in while I waited for my lunch to heat up

Myeles gasped, wrists tugging in their restraints as a cold gloved hand grabbed the base of his neck roughly. He was bent over the opperating table, thighs wet and sticky; the sensation slightly uncomfortable as a reault of Jan’s overly warm skin pressing against it.

His legs trembled with the effort of trying to stand, desperate to avoid having them give out and leaving his entire weight to pull on the restraints as he hung over the table. He gasped again shakily as he was pushed into, the table’s egde biting into his belly, right above his hips. It was hard and grating, scraping slightly, but beginning to feel friendly and familiar with the consistant beating against it as he was pressed into again and again.

Jan leaned down over him, pressing his chest into Myeles’ back and squeezing tightly, pressing his head down against the table, breath hot against his shoulder.

Barely 4 inches erect on a good day, they both knew he couldn’t really satisfy _anyone’s_ need for deep and rough, but Jan made up for it in other ways. Ways that Myeles in particular was appreciative of.

Myeles tugged against the wrist straps again with a moan, head lifting with the futile effort and body rigid with tension before completely collapsing, legs finally giving out.

Jan released his neck, both gloved thumbs coming to press on either side of it, right where it met his shoulders. Still pounding into Myeles with no change in pace, he lifted from his back and straightened up, dragging the thumbs down either side of his spine, digging into the flesh deeply. Myeles twisted against the table with a loud squeak and a gasp, stuttering out what were probably meant to be words as Jan reached the base of his spine and pulled out and away entirely.

Dripping and shaking, he sucked in shakey breaths, too far above the ground for his knees to reach and support his weight, dangling by his arms, shoulders tight and sparking some with pain.

He barely had a moment to squeeze out a few tiny, involuntary tears before Jan pressed back into him, sliding in effortlessly and with more force than usual, clearly tapping into his usually carefully hidden strength. He pushed Myeles back up with the force and a careful assist of hands on thighs, lining him back up at the right height to continue.

The renewed force held him there, (legs still too jelly to support him), and even more than before he felt the contrasting bite of the unmovable table edge as he was railed from behind. He felt himself let go mentally, gasping and dizzy, supported and rocked violently in the tiny square of space that he occupied between the table, his wrists, and Jan pressed against him. Nothing else registering but the bite in his hips, the feverish warmth of Jan’s skin on his skin, the spots of pleasure shooting through him from his slick yielding entrance, the tug and strain in his shoulders, and the sparkling stars dancing across his vision as he struggled to pull in enough oxygen.


	4. Coypu/Rah

“A- _ah!_ T-Too hard..” 

Coypu looked up from what he was doing, cock half buried in Rah and hand wrapped around Rah’s dick. “Too hard? Shit, _shit_!” 

Suddenly frazzled, he started pulling back out, but stopped when Rah gave a loud squeak. “Too _fast!_ ” Coypu froze, one hand still on Rah and the other propping his leg up. 

“ _Shit,_ sorry babe. Fuck, maybe if i jus’..” Rah shook his head, hair splayed out on the pillow and slightly back, looking more at the wall behind him than at Coypu. “N-No, not, just,” he covered his face with his hands, elbows raised, red and frustrated with the loss of vocabulary he always experienced during sex.   


“Your… _hand…”_  he managed to groan out, “T-Too hard… o-on my.. the _line,_ you idiot..” he mumbled.  


Coypu looked down blankly, staring at the hand on Rah’s dick. “Oh. OH!” He let go suddenly, realizing he had been gripping too hard, his fingers pushed into the thin and sensitive seam that spiraled up it. 

“Sorry, hot-stuff… Got a little carried away there.” He grinned down at his boyfriend, mouth full of sharp teeth and filthy intentions.   


“Hmph.” Rah lowered his hands a little, peeking down at Coypu with a hard look. “W-Well?”  


Coypu looked at him blankly, “Uh….” he squinted, not sure what Rah wanted. “Sorry?”

“No! Tch-!” Rah gave a frustrated groan and pulled a pillow from next to him over his head. He’d never say directly what he wanted, which was for the sex to continue, because somehow he could never find the words (Let alone force them out).   


Asking for sex seemed _horribly_ gauche. Crude and unseemly. He wasn’t some hormonal juvenile, he shouldn’t want sex so _much_ and so _badly_  from his boyfriend. He’d only just gotten to a point where the pain and stretching from Coypu’s massive cock wasn’t very noticeable, despite how long they’d been ‘partners in crime’ as Coypu called it. (Just one of the many ridiculous nicknames Rah to endure.)

Coypu let Rah’s leg fall gently, and placed both hands on Rah’s stomach, which trembled at the touch. 

“Heh.. Sorry darlin’, don’t know my own strength,” he leaned over and nudged the pillow upwards with his head, exposing Rah’s face just enough for him to kiss the scowl that lived there.  


He squeezed Rah’s waist a little, slowly pushing back in, careful this time not to go too fast, since he’d gotten yelled at for it a second before. Even if it _was_  well meaning…

Rah’s lips parted to suck in a breath, giving Coypu the opportunity to bite onto his the bottom one playfully. Coypu let go and kissed Rah’s chin, the pillow falling to cover part of Rah’s head again as he moved further down, kissing his jaw and throat with tiny little nibbles peppered in.

Rah moaned, legs spreading outward a bit more to let Coypu all the way in, hands coming around to rest gently on Coypu’s waist, slowly stroking up his back, fingers lightly passing over large scales. His face scrunched up a bit as Coypu finally filled him fully, the thick skin that usually protected his dick scrunched up around it and flush to Rah’s skin. 

“Ngh.. D-Don’t..”   


“Don’t?” Coypu nipped at Rah’s collarbone roughly, “Don’t what?” he teased.  


“S-Stop,” Rah stuttered out.  


Coypu grinned again, “Stop? Or don’t stop? ‘Fraid I can’t really understand you with that pillow over your head.” 

Rah let go of the gator, hands pulling the pillow away and flinging it to the side, face flushed red and frowning, “Don’t _stop,_ you _idiot!_ ” he grumbled. 

Coypu gave a loud barking laugh and leaned down to nip again, hands leaving Rah’s waist to push his legs out all the way instead. He pulled back slowly, with control that seemed almost comical given his large size, and pushed back in, Rah sucking in a wheezy breath underneath him. 

“Jus’ beautiful, darlin’… Never seen someone as beautiful as you right now.”  


“Sh-shut up…” Rah smacked Coypu on the shoulder and his hand instinctually moved up to tangle in Coypu’s hair.   


Coypu only laughed and continued to push into him, moving with purpose now, slowly picking up a quicker and quicker rhythm. He lowered his head to Rah’s chest with a throaty groan. Rah was always so tight, perfect and slick, squeezing around the prominent head of his dick and pulling up against it as he pulled out. 

Every thrust paved the way for the next, Rah nearly clenching and incredibly warm around him. He could _feel_ the slight stretch as he pushed in slow at the start and then hard at the end. He could prep the small man for as long as he could stand, but he swore it was somehow never enough. 

Rah was fulling gasping for air now, both hands tangled in Coypu’s coarse hair and pulling, tightening, clenching with each thrust. “P-Please… Oh please, d-don’t stop… p-p- _please_ ,” his words were endless babble, half lost and half nonsense, a litany of begging and gasping. Most of them lost to Coypu because of the accent.

Coypu’s cock pushed itself further inside Rah than Rah ever thought something could go, as usual, and Rah threw his head back at far as it could go in some strange, futile effort to stretch himself further, to reach _higher_. 

For Rah, nothing was as good anymore. When he was younger he’d experimented a few times with his own fingers, long and slender, perfect for his work but abysmal for pleasure. At the time they’d been more than enough, more than he thought he could stand _._ But he’d learned he was wrong, and now, he only ever wished for _more._ He wouldd hate himself for begging in the morning, when he woke up and remembered the night before, cheeks tinged with red, embarrassed and already growing hard with mere memory. 

But at the moment he could only beg harder.

“ _Please,_ Coypu…” he almost choked on it this time, “M-More…”  


The entire lair seemed to be shaking with it, Coypu thrusting as hard as he could into Rah, the sound of slick, wet slapping filling the air and mingling with both of their pleads and groaning. He sat up and the hands tangled in his hair fell out reluctantly. He leaned back some, still fucking Rah hard and fast, head back and breathing loudly, small curses pealing from his mouth. 

With a loud grunt he hooked his arms around Rah’s thighs and lifted him, hips leaving the bed entirely. Filled at an entirely new angle, Rah couldn’t help but cry out loudly. It took only a few deep, heavy thrusts for Coypu to come in the slightly new position. Egged on by Rah’s desperation and pressing as deeply as he could each time.

With a moan and a gasp he came into Rah, thrusting weakly as he rode out his orgasm. “Fuck…. _Fuck._ ”

Resting some, he finally stopped, Rah’s legs still lifted in his grasp as the scribe panted from the bed below. He started to pull back again, clearly intending to pull out completely, but Rah grabbed at his hand with a “Wait!” 

“D-Don’t… Stay… i-in me.”   


Coypu gently lowered Rah back to the bed, “Oh yeah? How come?” He already knew damn well why, but the teasing was one of his favorite parts of being with Rah. The indignation on his face, the frustrated flush, the _adorable_ face scrunching when he was annoyed with the gator.

True to form, it earned him a smack, and Rah reached up to half pull him down, still hard and unfinished. “Stay, damn it..” 

Copyu chuckled and let himself be lowered, pushing back in until he was fully seated, his weight heavy on the tiny scribe, arms wrapping around him carefully. Rah tucked his head into the spot on Coypu’s shoulder just next to his neck, and squeezed at the large man. 

Coypu reached a hand between them carefully, wrapping it once more around his boyfriend’s dick. Definitely more careful this time. With a happy hum he started rubbing, massive hands covering most of it with ease. 

“So beautiful… Look at ya’…” he nuzzled Rah’s exposed neck, earning a tighter squeeze. “Can’t believe I get to feel you, all smooth and warm.”  


“Sh-shut up..” was the feeble response, Rah trying desperately to push against the hand around him, but barely able to move, squashed as he was and pinned by the massive cock still inside him.  


He finished quickly, Coypu whispering loudly in his ear, voice still thick with lust. He groaned as he came, long and breathy, having actually _let go_ somewhere in the middle of it all, finally loosened mentally from his rigid and uptight ways.

Coypu smiled against his neck, nuzzling more and nipping slightly, shifting his weight so as to stay on top of him but not crush him entirely. 

“Sorry if I was too hard, I’ll make it up to ‘ya later, promise?”   


Rah just grunted in response, head still swimming and body still reeling. 

“‘Course.. maybe I’ll just uh, be _harder_ somewhere else, huh?”   


He laughed as Rah’s hand came up to smack him again, out of habit more than anything else. Perfect.


	5. Jan/Var (oral)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ask prompt: "Get on your knees."

Var pulled back from the microscope one last time. The papers next to him were coated in notes and figures. _Perfect_. He’d done it. Everything lined up, it was all right, _he_ was right. A breakthrough like this meant the amount of work in front of him had tripled and he itched with anticipation. 

Setting down his pencil, he ran his fingers through his hair. Self-satisfaction, pride, and a general sense of contentment filled him. And with it, a different itch. 

Var turned the rolling chair slowly to face the rest of his room. Jan was sitting on the far side, engrossed in recording some sort of information on what looked like… He squinted. _Brains?_ _Alright._ Crossing his legs and folding his hands into his lap, he called to him.

“Jan?”

The other doctor looked up, smile fixed in its usual place, the acknowledgment obvious. 

“How you feeling, Janny?”

He got a thumbs up in response, Jan’s illness clearly not bothering him to any significant degree. Satisfied with the answer, Var crooked his finger and motioned for him to come. 

“Come here, I need you for something. Oh, and close the door behind you.”

The request was not unusual. Their line of work often involved sensitive information, delicate instruments, or disgusting body parts that had no business being on a table of _any_ kind. As such, Jan did not hesitate to shut the door before heading over, simply curious and delighted to have been summoned.

He placed his tools aside carefully afterwards, making sure nothing would damage, and crossed over to stand in front of Var. 

He tilted his head at Var, smiling, “Yes?”

Var looked at him for a moment, studying the figure in front of him. The puzzled smile and obvious curiosity weren’t immediately visibly to the untrained eye, but to Var they were unmistakable and only served to intensify his itch.

“Get on your knees.”

The pause was minuscule, and a jolt of excitement flew through Jan’s stomach and straight down in the fraction of a second he stood there before dropping heavily to his knees. The ground was cold and unforgiving, but his body would heal itself before it would ever have a chance to bruise.

His four eyes gleaming, Jan kneeled, less than a foot from Var, back straight and arms hanging. He swallowed in anticipation. 

Var looked down at him, eyes lidded, and uncrossed his legs, opening them wide, knees spread. There was no mistaking what he wanted.

Scooting forward an inch, Jan’s hands came up to caress Var’s knees, rubbing at them firmly through the fabric. He inched forward, hands following the curve of Var’s full thighs downward with gentle pressure. 

Var laid an arm on the armrest of the swivel chair and propped his elbow up on the other side. With seemingly mild interest, he watched as Jan undid his pants, lab coat carefully pushed to either side of his waist.

Buttons undone, he felt a jolt of pleasant pressure as Jan groped him through his underwear, teasing before pulling him out. Var’s foot pulled the chair forward the last few inches, pushing him tight against Jan, encouraging him to work faster.

They made eye contact as Jan pulled him out entirely, working the excess fabric down to a manageable place. With a soft squeeze, Jan grinned at him, clearly pleased with the turn the day had taken.

Var’s eyes narrowed slightly, a teasing warning. Jan grinned, full and toothy, and gave a noiseless laugh before turning his attention back down. 

With his free hand, he reached up and pulled off his headband, the unconstrained hair springing in fifty different directions. Often he left it on while sucking Var off, but today Var was clearly in a Mood, and he knew better access to his hair would make it better for both of them. 

Settling his free hand back over Var’s thighs, he lowered his head to lightly lick the head of Var’s cock. Var settled his head on the back of the chair, stiffening in Jan’s hand, and let out a tiny contented sigh. 

“You better not be a tease today, Janny.” 

A tiny chuckle emanated from below, and a firmer lick followed. Then another, and another, and just before Var had a chance to get annoyed, Jan had swallowed him. 

Var startled in his chair a tiny bit at how sudden it was, but Jan lifted just as quickly as he had gone down, mouth closed around the head and little else. With a soft hum his hand let go of Var entirely and placed it over Var’s other thigh. Rubbing softly and giving a small squeeze.

Var let his head stay back, arms lightly gripping the chair as Jan slowly made his way down. He was a master of the craft, sucking lightly, mingling it with licks and nibbles, breathing hot and hard on just the right veins and places. 

One of the advantages of being so old was the skill it provided. Years of little to offer other than his mouth had made Jan impressively skilled, hands too rough and textured to ever be allowed near anyone’s dick but his own. 

As soon as he heard the first moan from Var, the triumphant doctor now fully hard in his mouth, Jan released one of Var’s thighs and grabbed instead for his hand. He grabbed it gently, the raised scars, tough skin, and missing bits of flesh of his own hand making a sharp contrast to the smooth and finely muscled hand of Var.

He tugged it slightly, away from the armrest, and placed it softly on his head, mouth still full with Var. 

It was an offer of control. Var had been gracious enough to give him an opportunity to warm up, to stimulate him to thick and erect in his own time. But now Jan offered it up again, and both of Var’s hands came to grip his hair, pushing it back from his forehead.

Var stroked Jan’s face gently, finally raising his head to look down again. Four eyes flitted up to meet his own, which were glowing redder and more dangerous than usual. He thumbed Jan’s cheek thoughtfully, still extremely pleased with himself, and then let go.

His right hand tangled deep into Jan’s hair, gripping hard enough that he could feel it pull Jan up his cock  a tad by force alone. He draped his other arm over the chair’s armrest again, hand dangling, posture completely relaxed. 

Still meeting Jan’s gaze, Var pushed down, ready to continue, setting a new pace.

Jan acquiesced, throat readily opening to take Var as he pushed down on Jan’s head. With a yank he came up again, tongue dragging along flat as he let himself be pulled. Down, up, down, up… They made eye contact one more time, Var yanking Jan until he came off entirely with a breathy pop and a loud swallow. 

Jan smiled up at him, body pressed against Var’s legs for support, free hand wandering out of Var’s view and pulling his own short cock out of his pants. Var stared down at him, eyes lidded and breath a bit heavy, waiting a moment to allow Jan to adjust and grip himself.

Then, with both hands, he pushed Jan forward again, pressing Jan’s face into his now damp and dangerously red erection. Tugging at himself a little out of sight, Jan mouthed at it before once again rising fully up on his knees to better swallow all of Var. 

The hands in his hair remained firm and pressing. An illusion of control, since Var was more than happy to let Jan do as he pleased. He had learned early enough that unless he was especially desperate or wound up, that letting the green doctor control his own pace and movement result in a _much_ more satisfying experience than trying to guide it himself. None the less, he was sure to signal when he wanted a change; thumb hooking under Jan’s jaw and pushing into the warm flesh of his throat sideways, urging him to change his angle, to better suit the slightly lower position Var had slipped into. 

Var’s head fell back again, resting over the back of the chair, breathing heavy and mingled with small grunts and moans. He continued to grip Jan’s hair with one hand, twisting and tangling the rough strands, and with his other he began absently stroking Jan’s cheek. His fondness for his boyfriend showing through, even in his proud and self-satisfied mood. 

Jan continued, breathing through his nose as best he could and focused heavily on his work, the way he focused on _all_ work. The tensing of Var’s thighs under his hand and against his chest egged him on, the legs periodically squeezing around him. He closed his own eyes, the familiar taste of Var on his tongue mingling with the smell, his senses over-heightened and buzzing with the effort and adrenaline. 

He continued to stroke himself, hand rough and scraping, but helped a bit by a thin dribbling of precum. Face glowing and the green more prominent than ever, tiny veins rising visibly to the surface of his skin, he cracked his eyes open to look up at Var.

Even through the continuous bobbing, he could see the flush on Var’s skin, the way strands of his shiny purple hair had gotten tethered to his face in a few places, stuck with sweat. At the sight of Var’s mouth slightly open and chest rising and falling quick but heavy, Jan caught himself slowing down. He quickly picked the pace back up, eyes closing against further distraction and throat uncomfortably full with the full length of Var’s dick as he pressed down again as far as he could go.

“Mmm. Good job. Just like that.” Var lifted his head one last time, staring down at the head between his legs, pleasure curling in his belly. He let go of Jan’s hair, and smirked at the confused look that was flashed up at him. 

He took advantage of the momentary slowing of pace, “Did you think that was an invitation to stop?” He licked his lips and tangled _both_ hands back into Jan’s hair abruptly. “Nice enough to let you touch yourself and this is the thanks I get?” He shook his head, “No. Finish.” 

With a fair bit of strength he pulled Jan’s head forward, the angle more parallel to the floor, and began fucking his face in earnest, reclaiming control in the final moments. Jan’s mouth was warm and yielding, veteran throat clenching around him as he thrust in over and over again, coming up only halfway each time. 

With a thick, lusty groan Var finally came, holding Jan’s head in place and thrusting his hips up a few times weakly. Breath now fast and shallow, he released his hold, and Jan slowly pulled off, making sure to clean on his way up as gently as he could. 

Var took in a long breath, steadying himself after the orgasm. Reclaiming his state of mind. He looked down at Jan, still sitting high on his knees, one arm wrapped around Var’s leg and the other still lightly stroking himself below.

“If you cum on the floor, you’re going to have to clean it, you know.”  


Jan’s movement paused, possibly debating the relative value of the two outcomes. 

“ _But._ Since you did such a good job,” he touched Jan’s cheek again, tracing some of the more prominent of the veins, “I  _suppose_ I could let you cum on me, since I need to wash anyway.”   


Jan laughed, throwing his head back in amusement, and Var couldn’t help but chuckle along. Jan stood up slowly, with a wobble that they both knew was more for show than anything, and gently straddled Var in the chair. The movement caused it to roll back slightly, and it bumped incredibly gently into the counter-top behind it. 

Pressing his forehead into Var’s, Jan pushed Var’s shirt up some more since it had slipped over the course of the blowjob. He stroked Var’s stomach gently before placing one arm of Var’s shoulder, and once again pulling at his somewhat latent hard on. 

Var’s hands came up to grip at his back and squeeze his ass, and it wasn’t long before he was silently spilling onto the skin in front of him. With a soft pant and a gentle squeeze, he finally let go. Var nosed Jan’s head up to look at his own and placed a small, soft kiss on his lips.

“That was great, Janny. Thank you.”   


Jan smiled, eyes closed, and pressed a second kiss to Var’s lips. “Did okay?”

“You always do okay. Better than ok.” He laughed, “Maybe I should have you get on your knees more often.”   


Jan laid his head on Var’s shoulder, hand coming up to absently fiddle with the collar of Var’s turtleneck. “Maybe. Maybe next time on knees.. turned other way.” He grinned like a fox, “Next time on knees, not mouth.” 

Var laughed at the unsubtle hinting, “Well, what are you doing about 5 minutes from now?”


	6. Clot (solo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a Really short one from an Ask, Clot jackin' it
> 
> He's so lonely, no one will date him, people love fucking him but... but no one will date him. He doesn't GET IT, he's HOT! What's not to LOVE?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Proofreading is for suckers)

The third finger slipped in easier than the second had, pushing its way in between the other two. Clot pushed his leg out further until it hit the wall. He had his face on his pillow turned sideways, ass lifted enough to allow him proper access with his own fingers.

He clenched his free hand, already a loose fist near his head, and pressed into himself more with his fingers. His entire body rocked as he pulled them out some, slowly finger fucking himself to a haphazard rhythm. It had been a while since he’d been fucked by anything other than his own fingers and toys, but what choice did he really have?

With a slight grunt he forced his legs apart a bit more, lowering his position slightly and giving him better access to try and hit deeper. Clot gasped, fingers sliding in and out easily, his perfectly shaped dick dangling between his legs, untouched and bobbing with the force of movement.

His face twisted as he picked up pace, desperate now for something much longer and thicker, but too involved already and not quite frustrated enough to stop what he was doing and get a toy.

His skin felt almost feverish, stirred air crossing it and causing slight cooling that mingled strangely with the burning heat of lust and exertion. He pressed forward as hard as he could, the tips of his fingers beating into his flesh from the inside and pulling faint gasps from his lungs.

The hand that had been near his head to balance him slid over, tangling into his own short crimson hair and gripping with surprising force. He wasn’t even conscious of the act, too far gone in the sensation of the shallow fucking. He tightened his grip, pulling at his hair harshly and rocking so far forward that he had gone from bent in half to almost flat on the bed.

Finally, after enough time, he flattened to the bed completely, his forlorn cock finally experiencing more than the occasional slight drag across bunched bed sheets. Clot pressed down as hard as he could, panting violently with the effort of his activities and grunting in frustration as he chased climax.

Clot pressed down again, grinding with more force than necessary, cock thick and red and dripping. The perfect curve of it flattening it to his belly as if it was the missing piece of a puzzle. The small amount of accumulated precum smeared from the tip and against his flushed, freckled skin.

With a sharp inhale and a final thrust, he ground himself to orgasm, white mess gathering and immediately sinking into the sheets as it had nowhere else to go.

He pressed his fingers in one last time weakly before pulling them loose. The thought of a better orgasm from something larger pressed into him was tempting, but with less and less sex came less stamina, and this alone had been enough to tire him.

With one final groan he flipped over, studying the smeared mess on his stomach. Feh. Pitiful. Was that really the best he could manage? A quick jerk and cum? Legs stretching out on the bed, he thought about better options. Maybe it was time to hit the bars.


	7. DustedWeb (anon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since dying and coming back to life, Web's developed some baaad habits. Like traveling to the far ends of Sornieth and fucking strangers. Healthy? No. Safe? Not really that either. Cathartic? Temporarily.
> 
> It's completely consensual sex, but it's not the happiest read, and he gets a bit Emotional towards the end, so careful.

* * *

It hadn't been hard to justify the detour to Nature. The Grasslands wasn't among most of the clan's "Top 10 Places to Go" list, so volunteering to make the journey in someone else's stead was easy.

Web tried not to volunteer for the far-away journeys too often, hoping to avoid suspicion. On occasion he'd make his own excuses to leave, not stopping until he was at least two elements away. Periodically, he would accept the next flight over as a suitable distance from home, so long as he was at the farthest end possible. No matter what, it had to be far away, where no one would recognize him and where he _knew_ he would never see the people there again. 

People like the large, red ridgeback whose hand were on his back and whose thick, ridged dick was deep inside him. He gasped, shoved over the rickety bed of a cheap inn, skirts hoisted messily and cowl discarded to one side. His hair was loose around his face and he cried out in surprise and pain as it was grabbed, his head yanked back. Web gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut at the sensation, his thin and fragile hair protesting the unfairly rough treatment. 

Breath came heavy on the back of his neck and he was slammed into, again and again, the sound of skin to skin louder than even the grunts and dirty words behind him. His insides burned and every stroke resonated.

He couldn't remember the man's name. Hairon? Juarlon? Fuck- It didn't matter anyway, he probably couldn't even remember _Web's_ name. Not that he'd given him his real one, of course. No one could accuse him of being stupid. Not _that_ stupid, at least. 

His scalp was on fire, talons gripping his hair and pulling. Pulling too tight and harsh on his fragile, spindly hair. He clenched and immediately regretted it, crying out slightly in pain.

“Come on baby, just like that!” A hand left his hair and he felt the sharp sting of a slap across his backside, followed by another slightly harder one. He moaned and flinched away instinctively, knowing there’d be welts in the morning. Thankfully no one but him would ever see his shame.

He gasped as he was thrust into, again and again, hard and fast. He was delirious and hazy after a night of reckless drinking, having spent the time consuming as much as he could to put himself out of his head and to work himself up to what he planned to do. No matter how many times he went out and practically begged strangers to fuck him, to use him and make him feel _something,_ to treat him like he deserved and to give him some semblance of the touch that he craved, no matter how many times... it still wasn’t easy. It still took an altered state of mind. 

Too many drinks later he’d either have followed someone or would be placing himself into someone’s lap, heavy handed and clearly a mess. The sort of person anyone decent would steer clear of at a bar or a club, but that plenty are happy to prey upon. The last time he’d been out and about he’d drunkenly said yes a few too many times, and had ended up completely tied up and blindfolded for a guy. And maybe a few of the guy’s friends, too... 

The haze tonight was numbing, but not quite enough, and he winced as he was rammed again. He could hear himself moaning and gasping in response, keening desperately as he pushed back, begging for it “harder, faster, p-please!” and he hated himself for it. He hated every sound that pushed past his lips.

The giant grabbed his waist and squeezed before pulling out completely. He let go and Webster collapsed forward, chest hitting the bed, hands gripping at the messy blankets as his head span, trying to steady himself. 

“Turn over.”  


He was nudged over onto his back, the rough hands pulling his thighs up and pushing him back onto the mattress bodily. His head bumped the wall and he grunted, blinking at the face coming down to hover over his. Hips brushed the back of his legs, and he groaned as he was entered again, the dick inside him still impossibly large and filling despite the harsh rutting from before. They hadn’t really spent the most time prepping, and he knew he’d regret it in the morning. 

“Please...” He tugged at the fabric covering his chest fruitlessly, only to have his hands pulled away.  


“Please what? Tell me you want me to fuck you,” The hands grasped his arms around the biceps and squeezed, holding fast, his date using his weight to keep Web pinned that way. “Tell me how much you fucking love my cock, _beg_ for it.”  


“P-Please, fuck me,” He gasped as he was suddenly emptied, only to be filled again just as quickly and roughly. “A-Ah! _Please,_  sh-shit-” His mouth twisted as the ridgeback smashed his own into it, sloppy and wet with spit, the kiss carnal and heated, Web’s own mouth barely able to keep up or kiss back against the onslaught.   


“Look at you,” he pulled back, hips starting to move again, face twisting into a grin. He looked over Web, still pinning his arms down, lust clear in his eyes. “Just look at you...”  


“You want this so _bad,_ ” he emphasized his words with a harder thrust, as deep as he could go, “fucking.. slobbering all over my cock earlier,” he thrust again, “moaning like whore,” again, “and now look at you.”  


Web squeezed his eyes shut, unable to stop himself from whimpering, head spinning and heat burning in his gut, desperate for more touch. The man leaned forward again, a hand leaving Web’s arm to tangle in his hair again, tugging it too harshly, his voice loud and rough in Web’s ear. 

“You want this?” His other hand let go as well, reaching down to grab at Web’s erection. He did his best to nod and whimpered as he shakily wrapped his arms around the body hovering over him.   


His head was yanked back, neck bared and suddenly onslaught with licks and bites, none too gentle. He cried out, a hand tugging him roughly as he was fucked, the dull ridges on the ridgeback’s cock dragging over his insides again and again, unceasing. It burned the way the drinks had in his throat earlier, and he nearly blacked out as he came, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the back of his partner for the evening, creating welts to match the ones that had been left on Web earlier.

Everything past that moment was a blur. He had no idea how much longer he was used, how long it was before the other man had his fill and slid out of him. It could have been a minute or it could have been an hour, he didn’t know and he didn’t care.

When they were finally done he felt raw and hazy, unsure of his surroundings but unwilling to let the creeping self-awareness and self-loathing grab hold of him. The dismount was quick and he remembered the ridgeback slapping him on the ass with a wink as he re-buttoned his pants and watched Web struggle to stand. Quickly as he could, he straightened his skirts and stumbled back to his own room at an inn a few blocks down. 

Falling face down on the bed, he didn’t bother washing up. The walk had returned a good portion of his sobriety, and at this point he was mostly just tired. The fuck had been everything he wanted; harsh, rough, satisfying, deep, and honestly a bit degrading. Closing his eyes, Web told himself that the most important part was the feeling. It was... just sex. He was still wanted for _that_ at least. 

He pressed his face into the pillow harder, trying to press down memories of softer touches and soft smiles. The feeling of deep thrusts that _didn’t_ come with names like “whore” or “good slut”, but instead with his name and genuine encouragements. He tried to pretend he didn’t notice as the fabric pressed to his face began to dampen, bile rising in his throat at the thought of soft words spoken to him at night. Convincing him he was meaningful. That he was worth the time. That he deserved some form of affection and goodness. 

It felt like a cruel joke now. And he knew he was only letting himself be used to satisfy his own self-hatred, to further validate the idea that he was worth less than everyone else and deserved nothing. 

If he’d been worth the time, and if he really was everything that had been said to him, then why had he been left behind? 

They didn’t need him. His mother, his father, his friends, his students. It was moments like these when he wished he’d been brave enough to give up his soul when the reaper came calling. To have cleaned up his affairs and give death what he’d owed her. At least she had wanted him. But really the universe didn’t care either, did it? Someone else’s soul had been taken, because really anything was good enough. Balance was balance. Just as he was another hole to fuck in a club, he was a soul like any other to the grand order of the universe. 

What possible validation was there in that? 

His a soft, singular sob, he let himself be swept into darkness, the sleep swallowing his feelings and giving him relief from the twisted emotions consuming him, and from the aches and bruises he knew he’d feel twice as bad in the morning. 


End file.
